Rock beats scissors

Jane Song on beauty packaging’s pebble-dagger dichotomy and the power of cute.

In the arena of beauty and lifestyle packaging, the pebble has overthrown the dagger. Pebbles are comfort objects perfected by “masstige” brands like Glossier, Fwee, and Elf Bar. Smooth, little, and round, they trigger the desire to caress. Even the display testers beg to be picked up by small, sticky fingers and tipped into the loving embrace of a Sandy Liang Baggu, landing next to a Sonny Angel.

Vanities were once bedecked with potions, hot rollers, and other long, sharp, severe objects. Daggers were not toys, but high-pigment tools wielded by masters. No longer a dominant trend, contemporary dagger aesthetics range from bold and kitschy (KVD Beauty) to luxurious and sharply elegant (Christian Louboutin). These color cosmetics conjure an old school fantasy of glamour and womanhood without shortcuts. Tools of glamour contain power and danger conferred to the user.

But in terms of connection, tools can’t compare to emotional support lip balms. 

Pebbles encourage the illusion of a reciprocal relationship between the buyer and the commodity, to lead them into something closer to mutual love rather than something merely transactional. In Our Aesthetic Categories, Sianne Ngai writes that, in contrast to the glamorous, the “cute” aesthetic is one that calls attention to its “own weakness, or relative lack of aesthetic impact.” Yet the powerlessness of the cute object is actually its source of power. “The cute commodity flatteringly seems to want us and only us as its mommy.”

The harbinger of the pebble was the “blobject” often seen in HomeGoods’ of the late 2010s. Talbot & Yoon’s “Goober” candle, which resembled the Venus of Willendorf, exemplified this trend. Writer Eliza Brooke found holding it in her hands soothing, as though she was tending to a baby bird. 

Big Tobacco has also manipulated cuteness, leaning on vapes’ perceived harmlessness to distract consumers from their danger. Consider the Elf Bar, one of the most repurchased pebbles of all time. How could something so cute cause so much lung damage?  Unlike the cigarette, a symbol of adulthood, sex, and rebellion, the vape became a “safe,” fruity pacifier as appealing to kids as fidget spinners. The Flum Pebble’s design is reminiscent of EOS products, which were likewise a hit among middle schoolers in the 2010s.

When market forces have stunted traditional markers of American adulthood like home ownership and childbearing, there’s no point in outgrowing a childlike aesthetic palate. Without the assurance of maturity, brandishing a dagger—or even a blush brush—can feel like an empty gesture. They make sheer finger paint blush now anyway.  

Children’s spaces and adult’s spaces have also been blurred by social media algorithms and retail constraints. The guiding force of TikTok’s feed curation is personal interests, not necessarily age. Kids absorb a 32-year-old’s GRWM, adults catch up on wholesome Bluey snippets, and they all laughed during the Barbie movie. Kids have always wanted to play with Mom’s makeup, but now Mom’s makeup looks straight out of Fisher-Price. With the disappearance of girl-centric retail like Limited Too and Club Libby Lu, tweens can only explore their beauty interests at Sephora and CVS. There, they compete for space with adults hunting for little treats after forgoing big purchases like condos and babies. 

Some adults carry few of the privileges promised by their age but most of the guilt. Consumerism is not an inconsequential game. Any mass-produced object comes with environmental and ethical costs. If a dagger transfers its power and charms to its user, the pebble’s owner intends to take on the object’s cuteness and infantilization. If a dagger is an admission of intention and visible beauty labor, the pebble represents a sense of absolution from overconsumption. How could the adoptive mother of a Glossier solid perfume, 7 Owala thermoses, and twin Calico Critter bunnies possibly be an ecological villain? She’s just a 27-year-old girl! 

Makers of pebbles have learned how easily consumers submit to the cute commodity. As Sianne Ngai writes, “for all its pathos of powerlessness, [the cute commodity] is thus capable of making surprisingly powerful demands.” The consumer doesn’t feel duped, either. They didn’t just gather a collection—they created a family. 🪨